


these hands, if not god

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Meta, Pining, Social Media, W Two Worlds Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri studies the man with silver hair and unbelievably blue eyes, and says, "Are you real then?"
  "I believe I should be asking you that." The man stares back at Yuuri with a mix of shock and awe, as if he were gazing upon a miracle. Under the intensity, the tips of Yuuri's ears flush red. It's not that he's unaccustomed to hero worship. Plenty of people have called Yuuri their idol before, but this is different. He doesn't know how yet, but it's different.
      "What's your name?"
      "Viktor."
Yuuri Katsuki is a shounen manga hero. Viktor Nikiforov is a figure skating legend who has always been in love with him. By a twist of fate, the two manage to meet across universes.





	1. i

 

[1]

 

“I wonder sometimes what the memory of God looks like. Is it a palace of infinite rooms, a chest of many jeweled objects, a long, lonely landscape where each tree recalls an eon, each pebble the life of a man? Where do I live, in the memory of God?"

\- Catherynne M. Valente, _The Habitation of the Blessed_

 

*

 

Yuuri’s life begins and ends on the ice. Ever since Yuuri first placed his feet on its surface, the ice absorbed every part of Yuuri: his anger, his joy, his despair. The thick white sheet contains the key to his life. The ice never sways or changes its mind. The ice is the only constant in his everchanging world. Whatever faults Yuuri has, skating will be redemption. The ice will never betray him. 

At least, that's what he believed.

A frown mars Yuuri’s expression as he thinks back to earlier in the week, at the GPF. The gold had been his for the taking. Evgeni Kozlov’s performance had been elegant and refined. However, he had been the only true competition. No one else could manage to defeat Yuuri just yet, and Kozlov’s free skate had one major flaw: it was soulless - cold. Uninspired. Without a doubt Yuuri could have done better. _Would_ have done better. 

Except he didn't. Like a puppet on strings, Yuuri touched down on a Quad Salchow and could only drown in helplessness as his performance fell apart. For once the disaster hadn't eminated from Yuuri’s anxiety. He doesn't know how to explain it, but Yuuri feels as if the disastrous performance has been forced upon him. His body turned left when he meant to turn right, slowed when it should have sped up, stumbled when it should have slid. His motor functions had been all wrong. Yuuri lived a waking nightmare. 

Yuuri has practiced his free skate until his hands bled with scratches and his feet were spotted with blisters. He can do every jump and turn even half-awake. And somehow, he ruined it when it counted the most. He can't believe it. The only saving grace is that it was towards the end, when he had secured enough points to settle for silver.

Atsuko, his coach, refused to speak to him afterwards. She grasped Yuuri’s shoulder in a gesture that suggested comfort, but was meaningless. Her entire face had shut down when Yuuri had skated towards her at the Kiss and Cry. It's not the worst reaction. Yuuri is aware that Atsuko has been trying not to crush him under the force of her expectations, to pull back somehow, but he also remembers the words she couldn't say that day.

Although years have passed since Yuuri heard Atsuko speak so harshly, the cutting thing she told him after Yuuri won his first bronze lives with him still. “Next time I expect you to stop fooling around. When will you let go of these silly delusion of yours and realize that the only problem here is you?”

After Yuuri apologized — something she refused to acknowledge — Atsuko left, not returning for two days. Instead of pitying himself, Yuuri has decided that he can use the time he has for more productive reasons. Namely, he wants to be on the ice again.

Although he failed to wrest gold from Kozlov’s fingers, Yuuri is still second. One phone call is all it takes for the organizers in Saint Petersburg to give him private ice time. Most of the competitors left already, but nothing is waiting for Yuuri back in Japan.

Without Atsuko, he doesn't have a home. She adopted him after seeing that he had potential, and Yuuri has never managed to find a place that makes him feel safe the way the ice does. Not when he and Atsuko move around often due to his demanding career.

They aren’t family. Atsuko won't consider him a son. However, they are the only thing they have outside of the sport.

Nighttime has fallen when Yuuri arrives at the rink. He barely has anything on him. Just a small bag with his skates that hangs off his shoulder, and his phone tucked in his pocket. After tying up his shoelaces and placing his skate guards on top of the bag, Yuuri threads into the ice and feels his soul begin soaring.

The sense of contentment that comes with skating burns in Yuuri like fire. It is almost a destructive love. Yuuri is keenly aware that he lacks many things regular people have. Connections seem to be the main one. Sometimes the loneliness eats at him on the inside, but moments like this make it worth it. Yuuri and his only love.

Since Yuuri hasn’t done any warm-ups, he decides against trying to skate his routine again. Instead he turns in circles, letting the cold air numb his thoughts.

Today skating is so natural. Nothing like during the Grand Prix. Yuuri feels as if he’s grown wings.

And this, _this i_ s what it should have been like. With the music that thrums in his core rising up to meet the cheers of the crowd. Somehow, though, the invisible force had stopped him.

Yuuri never talks about this, because he knows it sounds crazy, but his whole life often appears artificial, as if it were orchestrated by a stranger’s hand. Not just on the ice, but his life in its entirety. The whole thing developed as if he were the main character in a movie.

At this point Yuuri has suffered through all sorts of unbelievable sequences of events: corrupt judges who underscored him, individuals who tried to bully him, media scandals, competitors who seemed to single him out as their target. Even his orphaning is something out of a cliched story. Left on the steps of a young couple’s house in the middle of winter with only his name as a note, he never had the advantages other kids his age had, but he persevered anyway.

People may call Yuuri a monster sometimes, for his stamina, his talent, or his coldness, whatever they can think of - but it was necessary he become one. Or else he could never escape the force that maneuvered him from the shadows.

Yuuri glances upwards, almost expecting eyes to be focusing down on him. Instead all he sees are the beams of the rooftop.

With a sigh, Yuuri circles around the rink once more. Staring at the expanse of ice in front of him he wonders aloud, _Are you out there… watching me?_

He wants to stay there longer, but a familiar sound begins to chime in the air. Atsuko is calling him. Finally, she's worked the disappointment out of her system, it seems.

By the time Yuuri reaches the exit, his phone has stopped ringing, but there is still a message there.

 

 **Atsuko  
** Meet me at the hotel. We have nationals to talk about.  
_12:45AM_

 **Yuuri  
**           Okay. I’ll be there in a bit.  
_12:46AM_

 **Atsuko  
** …  
_12:48AM_

 **Atsuko  
** NOW  
_12:48AM_

 

*

 

 **Yuuri!! Fight On** , known in Japan as _Y_ _ū_ _ri!! Ganbatte_ (ユーリ!! 頑張って) , is a _Japanese_ sports manga series written and illustrated by _Osamu Nishigōri_. It has been serialized in _Weekly Shōunen Jump_ since November, 2006, with the chapters collected into forty-three _tankōbon_ volumes to date. The series follows the journey of its titular character, _Yuuri Katsuki_ , an orphan who wishes to pursue his dream of reviving enthusiasm for figure skating in Japan and becoming the best male figure skater in history.

The series garnered worldwide acclaim after its debut, receiving praise for its characterization, humor, and its tackling of difficult concepts such as _mental illness_. Many international figure skating champions have sited the manga as their inspiration, and it has been credited for being responsible for garnering newfound interest in figure skating throughout the world. As of May 2015, the series has sold 120 million copies worldwide, making it one of the top seven _best selling mangas in history_. In 2008 and 2010 it won the _Tezuka Osamu Cultural Prize_ and later went on to win the _Shogakukan Manga Award_ in 2012. 

As of 2016, an anime adaptation has been announced to be made by _Toie Animation_ , the same studio involved in the creation of _One Piece_. It is the first of its kind, as series creator Nishigōri has previously rejected offers to have movies or a television series produced.

 

*

 

**kangyeon ******posted

**YUURI FIGHT ON META: On Yuuri Katsuki and breaking the fourth wall**

So chapter 414 has just been released, and I for one have been waiting nearly a decade to write about Yuuri Katsuki and his consciousness of his role in a fictional narrative. He’s not the first wall breaker we have seen in popular media this decade, but Yuuri _is_ unique in that he consciously fights against the narrative that has been chosen for him. Rather than play along with the audience as many narrators tend to do, he confronts them.

The latest example: _“Are you out there… watching me?”_

  
  


The point of story telling is that it allows the audience to experience another life without the difficulty of living it. It’s inherently voyeuristic. However, readers are meant to feel safe in that the story itself will never call them out, but rather do the opposite and offer them intimate details on the world and into the mind of its character.

The significance of Yuuri’s comment is that he breaks the status quo by making the reader's conscious that not only are they experiencing a story, but that they’re **intruding upon a life**. All of Yuuri’s hardships are a result of the author’s wish to please the readers. Nishigori-sensei has made a reference to this himself  in an interview he gave in 2010, where he stated, “Yuuri is a life of his own. I only need to nudge him down one path and see his progress unfold.” (translation by: _futurekatzki_ ). However, Yuuri’s confrontational approach stems to way back in 2007.

In chapter 31, when Yuuri is preparing to make his first public performance, Yuuri first speaks of himself as a character. The motif extends through later chapters, but one gem stands out in particular: “Right now I am only a tool used to tell a story. My whole self belongs to the performance. I am only a character who plays a part. Life is like this, skating is like this. I must become the art others hope to experience…” (x)

Keep reading

Source: kangyeon #yuuri katsuki #yfo #yuuri fight on #meta #i’m getting flashbacks to wee stressed yuuri #our boy has come so far #i wish he was real so i could give him a hug 

**1,062 notes**

 

*

 

r/YFO • Current Chapter

**Yuuri!! Fight On: Chapter 414**

u/Zhenyuuri • 1hr

Please discuss the manga here and in the theory/discussion post. Any other post will be removed within 48 hours.  
 

 _148 comments_ ••• | ⇧  485 ⇩

 

_Sort: **Best**                                            _

_Write a comment_

 

▹  _Only_The_Tip   45 min_

  Yuuri: Are you out there, watching me?

  Me: OH SHIT HE KNOWS  *sweat drops*

                                  ⮪ ••• | ⇧  96  ⇩ 

> ▹ _bf-izumi    36 min_
> 
>  *hides vision goggles*
> 
>                ⮪ ••• | ⇧  12  ⇩
> 
>     ▹  _better-bf-zhenya   12 min_
> 
>      *hides doujinshi*
> 
>                ⮪ ••• | ⇧  23  ⇩
> 
>             ▹  _katzukat     10 min_
> 
>                lol love the usernames. personally love evgeni more. go zhenyuuri!
> 
>                 ⮪ ••• | ⇧  3  ⇩
> 
>              ▹  _orangemarmalads  10 min_
> 
>                 ur going to ship yuuri w/ the guy he thinks isn't good enough to deserve gold over the childhood friend/rival
> 
>                             ⮪ ••• | ⇧  0  ⇩
> 
>                ▹  _katzukat  8 min_
> 
>                   Yeah, at least yuuri knows he exists. Remember around chapter 101? Yuuri was obsessed with catching up to Zhenya even when Izumi was right there so… you guys are going to have your moment at nationals, let us enjoy this. #bittertears                
> 
>                                     ⮪ ••• | ⇧  3  ⇩
> 
>                      ▹  _More Comments (3)_

 

▹  _osabery  37 min_

I’m really worried about Yuuri right now. Sometimes I think Nishigori sensei hates him. He never just lets Yuuri be happy. And how could Yuuri not win the GPF??? Even YUURI thinks it’s ooc.

            ⮪ ••• | ⇧  79  ⇩  

> ▹  _gakuenfs  34 min_
> 
>         I’ve literally been saying this for years, I mean Nishigori probably loved Yuuri a lot in the beginning (you can tell) but in the last couple of years he’s put Yuuri through hell. I heard from some that knew one of the assistants and apparently back in 2008 when the series almost got cancelled that Nishigori and his editor got into a fight because he was planning to make Yuuri fall into a major depressive episode and you know…
> 
>     ⮪ ••• | ⇧  83  ⇩
> 
>     ▹   _FEARMYMATH  11 min_
> 
>       Sources?
> 
>           ⮪ | ••• ⇧  26  ⇩
> 
>        ▹    _More Comments (2)_

 

▹  _scotbud123  13 min_

Idk. Is it weird that I don't ship Yuuri with anyone? I think he hasn't met his soulmate yet.      

                     ⮪ ••• | ⇧  13  ⇩

>  ▹   _JusticeBear  10 min_
> 
>  Nah you're right. He hasn't met the right girl yet. Maybe Megumi? They haven't seen each other in year, but… so far with Naruto and Bleach… i expect that ending
> 
>                 ⮪ ••• | ⇧  4  ⇩
> 
>       ▹  _scotbud123  8 min_
> 
>         It’s not that. Yuuri's a special guy… I think when his soulmate shows up we’ll all be slapping ourselves silly for not realizing.
> 
>                         ⮪ ••• | ⇧  1  ⇩

 

*

 

**(5 People)**

**Mila** **  
**Viktor is crying again  
_5:57 PM_  

 **Georgi  
** Why?  
_5:58 PM_  

 **Yuri  
** Stupid bastard. Why didn’t you take his phone away?  
_6:01PM_

 **Mila  
** You know why. New chapter  
_6:02 PM_

 **Mila  
** I did but he took someone else’s  
_6:04 PM_  

 **Mila  
** Now he’s crying and he won’t give the phone back  
_6:05 PM_  

 **Yakov  
** I’ll get him  
_6:13 PM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to annoyinglydecaffinatedfangirl for encouraging me to post this.


	2. ii

 [2]

 

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.”

\- Plato

 

*

 

Viktor’s second love comes to him in the form of a novel.

The memory is faded now, but he recalls that it had been at a bookstore, a little hovel of a thing. Most of the items items were second hand, but a couple of recent titles inhabited the shelves. Even though the store was located in St. Petersburg, the languages of the books varied from Russian to English and French and various others, sorted without any rhyme or reason.

At the time Viktor had no interest in browsing, had merely gone into the nearest store to pass the time. However as he walked by the various books something caught his eye.

A graphic novel in English, colored green and yellow with a rosy-cheeked Japanese boy printed on the front. The cover page was a little bent, but otherwise the condition was fine. There were no others like it around. It appeared as though someone had picked it up and set it back down before they left.

For a second Viktor dismissed it, thinking that at seventeen he had already outgrown children’s books. Years have passed since, and now Viktor can hardly remember what changed his mind. Maybe the sight of the boy balancing on skates with a look of sheer joy on his face pulled him into its gravity. Maybe Yakov had sent him a message that he would be late picking him up. Maybe the cold had become too harsh, trapping him indoors.

Whatever the reason, Viktor picked up the book and turned to the first page.

Yuuri Katsuki had a fire in his eyes and a heart so big it tended to hurt him. He was young, naive and stubborn. In short, adorable. Most importantly, however, Yuuri fell in love with the ice in a way that was all-consuming, that would inevitably lead to loneliness. A kindred soul. It was no wonder then, that Viktor obsessively read and re-read the one and only volume the store had available.

Time escaped him, and only Yakov storming into the room and threatening to drag him out made Viktor realize how late it had become.

_It feels the same way now_ , Viktor thinks, as he clutches the phone in his hand. He’s vaguely aware of one of his rink mates fidgeting beside him. The girl may be too embarrassed to ask for her phone back, seeing as Viktor is weeping all over it. Meanwhile Mila crosses her arms and taps her foot with impatience as Viktor ignores her. He can’t read her expression through the blur of tears.

When Viktor tries to calm down, the memory of Yuuri’s cold blank face returns to him, and anger pulses in him sharp and hot. Viktor brushes the tears from his eyes only for more to replace them. This always happens when he gets overwhelmed.

A hand comes up to grip Viktor’s shoulder from behind, and he jolts before relaxing again. He’s familiar enough with the weight to identify the person without having to glance back. “Vitya, please,” Yakov says. “Give the girl her phone back.”

Viktor nods in response. “Sorry.” He sniffles, handing the phone back. He blinks and his vision begins to clear.

The girl smiles awkwardly and says, “No it’s no problem. I hope your family matter is fixed.” Then she nods at Yakov and proceeds to leave the building.

Mila’s eyes follow after her figure, before she echoes the words, “Family matters…” in a wry tone. One of her eyebrows hitch as she turns her attention back to Viktor.

A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of Viktor’s mouth. “Eh, I couldn’t think of a better excuse?” He shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up. The aura around Yakov grows more oppressive, but Viktor plasters on a smile. Even his coach becomes less intimidating when Viktor is towering over him. Now with the upper hand, he prepares to be scolded.

In response the old man sighs. “You never listen do you?”

“I always listen,” Viktor lies.

“I know you don’t believe me, but having some time away from the media is good for you, Viktor.” The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but Viktor automatically notes the furrow of Yakov’s brow and the strain in his eyes. After many years he’s come to know that the man has his own way of taking care of his students. And lately, Viktor has been worrying him to madness.

“If the pressure has become too much for you, I can give you space and a small break. Anything else we can discuss in private.” A glance thrown at Mila shows that Yakov means to stop the conversation.

Viktor brings a hand to scratch of his neck. “Yes, I apologize. I wanted to know what happened to Yuuri. I didn’t see anything else.” It comes to show how aware Yakov and Mila are of his obsession that they don’t have to ask which Yuuri. For a while, Viktor had gone through a phase where he called their Yuri “Yurio” to differentiate between them.

“Alright.”

“Let’s go then,” Mila says, gripping onto Viktor’s arm and dragging him forward. “Your birthday’s this week. Gloominess doesn’t sit well on you anyway.”

 

*

 

It’s dark out when Viktor arrives home. As he hangs his coat on the racket, Viktor half-expects Makkachin to come bounding into the room. Instead he’s greeted with silence.

Curious, Viktor tiptoes into the living room. Everything there seems undisturbed and there’s no one inside. Then he peeks his head into the dining room. It looks empty at first, but he glimpses a rustle beneath the mantle and goes up to lift it. Taking a closer look under the table, Viktor discovers Makkachin chewing on a dog bone.

He kneels down next to the poodle, scratching him on the top of his head. “Who gave you this?” he asks as Makkachin licks his palm. The bone falls to the floor, forgotten. “I didn’t know we had guests.”

Makkachin woofs, tail wagging in the air. He slips under Viktor’s legs, and Viktor follows him out the door. The poodle ushers him to the corridor leading up to their bedroom, but stops just outside, instead pressing his paws against the door of the room Viktor converted into a makeshift office.

“In here?” Viktor prompts, gripping the door knob. Makkachin barks again.

Viktor turns it quietly. On the other side he’s surprised to find Yuri sitting cross-legged on the swivel chair, head buried in one of Viktor’s books. Most importantly, it’s volume twenty-three of _Yuuri!! Fight On_. Viktor freezes. In the back of his head, Viktor notes that around that point Yuuri is still fifteen. It must be interesting to this Yuri, as he doesn’t seem to have noticed Viktor’s entrance.

Remembering that his phone is in the back of his jean pocket, Viktor reaches for it. He’ll get yelled at if he posts it now. That doesn’t mean he can’t post it later, though, whenever Yakov lifts his media blackout. Better yet, he can send it to Mila and Georgi. That’ll be fun. He snaps a picture and puts his phone back after it’s done.

Since Yuri still won’t look up, Viktor coughs into his hand. He hides a smile beneath his fist as Yuri jumps to attention.

“Idiot,” Yuri grouches. He still hasn’t let go of the book. “Can’t you knock.”

“Yura, picking up the habit of breaking into your seniors’ homes, I see.” Viktor plasters a cold smile on. Although he’s not angry, he’s not particularly happy that Yuri didn’t let him know he was inside the house. The Russian teen is welcome anytime, but Viktor can’t always assume it’s him dropping by. If he’d called the police instead of walking around, that would have caused trouble for all of them. Sometimes Yuri can be quite thoughtless.

The teen bristles, shifting uncomfortably. Like a cat. “It’s not my fault you left your key under the carpet,” he mumbles.

“Ah, I needed someone to feed Makkachin for me today. Yakov wanted me to show up to practice. My neighbor offered to stop by.”

“It’s not like you need it. You won _gold,_ ” Yuri spits. He hunches into himself, all of a sudden seeming smaller than he is. Viktor sighs. He really is a softy. But honestly, Yuri is so young. It’s normal that he’s seeking guidance after winning bronze in his Senior debut. Although the outcome is excellent by many standards, for Yuri it’s nothing short of a disappointment. Especially after he hounded Viktor to develop the choreography of both his free skate and his short program.

Viktor crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “Come on, then. It can’t be comfortable sitting there, Yura. Pick up some of the books and let’s move to the living room. You must be hungry.”

“I was just bored.” He scowls at Viktor, but he hugs a handful of books to his chest anyway. Viktor proceeds to head to the living room and then to the kitchen.

There are leftovers from the fridge, he recalls. Yuri would have his head if he ordered takeout. Sure enough there’s still a container of borscht his neighbor gave him. Viktor is highly aware of the fact she may have a crush on him, and he mentally leaves a note to himself to imply he’s taken the next time they talk . After placing the soup in the microwave to heat up, he checks on Yuri in the living room.

The young teen is once again sitting cross-legged, a serious expression having settled on his face. Viktor is relieved. For the past few weeks, most of his private expressions have been marred by sadness. Viktor doesn’t have the skill to comfort anyone, so he’s mostly let it be. Yakov and Mila are better at handling these things, and Georgi too, after he started getting over his girlfriend.

Knowing Yuri, he has the potential to grow from this loss. In the Junior league he’d never really had competition, and although both Viktor and Yakov had advised Yuri to take training more seriously, the boy hadn’t realized just how much experience his competitors had. Or talent. Not outside of Viktor. He wishes there had been a way to show Yuri earlier on, before he came behind Otabek Altin, but it seems the boy had been doomed to learn this lesson the hard way.

Viktor believes that Yuri will move on eventually. Right now, he deserves a chance to wallow. Viktor did worse when he got bronze and silver back before he started winning everything.

The beeping of the microwave takes Viktor from his train of thought. He re-enters the kitchen, taking out the borscht and pouring half into one bowl and another half into a second. As he’s bringing the food to the table, he sees that Yuri already moved. With a smile Viktor settles down to eat in companionable silence.

 

*

 

**(3 people)**

**Viktor  
** _[download image]  
_ _11:53 PM_

**Mila  
** I was going to scold you for being up so late  
_11:54 PM_

**Mila  
** But 1) that would make me a hypocrite  
_11:55 PM_

**Mila  
** And 2) this is pure gold  
_11: 56 PM_

**Viktor  
**           :)  
          _11:57 PM_

**Mila  
** geORGI WAKE UP  
_11:58 PM_

**Mila  
** YOU ARE MISSING THIS  
_11:58 PM_

**Mila  
** You’re on blackout right Vitya? Don’t worry. I got you.  
_11:59 PM_

**Viktor  
** <3  
          _12:01 AM_

**Georgi  
** Practice starts at six. how are you even awake  
_5:56AM_

 

*

 

**milababicheva**

 

**❤ 7,456 likes**

**_milababicheva_ ** the world’s greatest fanboy #theotheryuri

_View all 163 comments_

**_lanamoon_** my two favorite yuris in one room wat is a girl to DO???  
**_brbdying_** look at that collection tho. That’s gotta be ALL OF THEM #brbdying  
**_angelyuri_** omg is this real life???  
**_katsudont_** or is it FANTASY  
**_kingnikiforov_** whose room is this  
**_daphne.85_** @kingnikiforov yuri’s duh  
**_bibihaskates_** @daphne.85 is that 100% certain though? It’s obviously someone else taking the picture. Yuri didn’t even see them. The real question here is who the other otaku in russia is.  
**_neddlenerd_** WHO IS THE OTHER OTAKU  
**_loveaweseemness_** I bet it’s Georgi.  
**_donotbeordinary_** i bet it’s not  
**_fangirling123_** yuri if I cosplay as yuuri can you be my zhenya  
**_izumiboy_** idk about evgeni but my door’s always open ;)  
**_therealdecosta_** @fangirling123 @izumiboy we all know who the real dark horse is  
**_fangirling123_**   @therealdecosta FUCK OFF TO YOUR ITALIAN PENINSULA ALDO (*ಠ_ಠ)つ  
**_icantbelieveihavetosaythis_** @fangirling123 @izumiboy @therealdecosta guys please be respectful of figure skaters and don’t start shipping wars on their accounts. It’s great Yuri joined the fandom. Let’s not scare him off.

 

*

 

Somehow Viktor gets wrangled into going to Yakov’s house for his birthday party. He’d been planning to take the group out to a dinner himself, but they pull a fast one on him—snatching him up as soon as he leaves the rink.

Although he expects Mila, Georgi, and Yuri to be there, he doesn’t expect Lilia to show up. Just the sight of her causes his smile to widen. When Viktor was younger, Lilia and Yakov were something like second parents to him, since his own lived in Moscow. He even boarded with them for a time before he bought his own home. It warms Viktor’s heart to know the two of them are getting along again. He suspects Lilia’s return may have something to do with Yakov’s plans for Yuri’s choreography. Before that, Lilia had gone traveling the world — doing some soul searching, she’d told him.

As Viktor greets the older woman with bear hug, she sighs and rubs his back. “It’s good to see you happy, Vitya. After listening to Yakov talk I thought you would be a mess.” Viktor hides his face in Lilia’s shoulder so she won’t see his expression sour.

After winning the Grand Prix Final for the sixth time, Viktor’s been wrung out. He doesn’t know if he can manage another year. His body can handle at least one more season, yes, but there’s nothing in him that _wants_ to.

He can’t tell Lilia that just yet. So there’s a momentary lapse of time where they remain there, embracing. To fill in the silence between them, Viktor forces a laugh. “Yakov is being silly.”

“He always is,” Lilia says. She draws away, and Viktor releases her. “Come now. I finally know how to make your favorite.”

Viktor blinks. “Favorite?”

“Pork cutlet bowls.”

A very real smile dawns on Viktor’s face. Among them, Yakov is the only one who Viktor has managed to needle into cooking the Japanese recipe, and he does it rarely. The rest of them are abysmal in the kitchen. “But how?” he asks, skipping after Lilia. She huffs.

“I have an old friend who lives in Japan. Way back from the olden days. She invited me to stay with her for some time, and I couldn’t help but think of you, Vitya.”

He pauses, processing that fact. “And you didn’t bring me _anything_ else?”

“Do not pout like that. Your face will get all pruny and wrinkled. Remember you are not so young anymore.”

She breaks into laughter when Viktor begins to splutter.

 

* 

 

The rest of his birthday goes smoothly for the most part. The table has been filled to the brim with food. There’s pesochny cake, meat pies, potato salad, stroganoff, smoked salmon, and other foods still concealed from view. Even Yuri sneaks in a bowlful of pirozhki. Upon seeing this, Viktor rubs the top of the teen’s head only for Yuri to grumble that he’s not a mutt.

The six of them settle down to eat; Viktor sits at the center of the table opposite of Lilia with Mila and Georgi sat at his right and Yakov and Yuri on his left. They chatter back and forth although Yakov and Yuri cut in with their own remarks every so often. Viktor hides his amusement when Lilia makes a sly comment about how Yuri is very much like her ex-husband, to which Yuri responds by becoming more invested in the conversation.

Eventually Mila goes for the chance to pull on Viktor’s ear. Longer life, she comments after. Viktor resigns himself to it as the others join in; Yuri’s is especially hard “for extra measure”, but Yakov surprisingly refrains himself.

The presents are thoughtful too. Georgi gives him a set of silver cuff links embossed with a sliver of gold, something reminiscent of the costume he used this year. Alongside it comes a card that reads, _In honor of your legacy,_ a reference to Viktor’s theme. He can’t come up up with anything to say, so he nods teary-eyed. Mila’s gift is also skating themed. It’s a copper flower crown much like the ones he’s received throughout the years, which Viktor allows to be placed on his head with a smile.

Yuri gives him a scarf, saying that he picked it out at the last second. If anyone besides Viktor notices the slight knots that are a clear sign of an amateur’s work, they refrain from commenting. Yakov hands him a bottle of wine. Viktor teases him about encouraging bad habits. For a Russian, Viktor is an infamous lightweight.

What comes as a surprise is Lilia’s present.  He doesn't expect to receive anything from her. Having her visit is a gift enough. And yet, she hands him a bag with its contents concealed by tissue paper. When he sticks his hand in to sift through its contents, his fingers finally wrap around a lanyard. Viktor eyes Lilia questioningly.

The woman stares calmly back, a dimple showing as her mouth curves. “You will like it.”

With a shrug, Viktor pulls out the rest of the string. Instead of having a keychain attached, the lanyard has a photo hanging off it. He brings it closer to examine it. It’s not a photo after all, but rather a torn piece of a notebook laminated in plastic. A Japanese boy is sketched onto it, rosy-cheeked and twinkly-eyed. Yuuri Katsuki, much younger than even in his first chapter of his manga. The lines of the drawing are loose, as if it were a doodle or a rough draft.

Viktor glances back at Lilia’s face, speechless. “What is this?”

Lilia lifts one finely penciled brow. “That should be obvious, no? My friend is a friend of this author you like so much. Apparently that little drawing is one of the first of its kind, perhaps even the first. The man gave it to her without much care. I was shocked; I thought it would be harder to obtain it. Nevertheless, here it is.”

The paper seems to weigh a thousand kilograms and nothing at all. Viktor presses it against his heart.

“Thank you.” It would be okay, he thinks, if this moment lasted forever. Viktor doesn't want to lose the sense of wonder he's feeling. It's been some time since an emotion like this has stirred in him, painful and gleaming. A seed taking root.

“Show off,” Yuri accuses. His voice snaps Viktor back to reality, and he remembers that he has other guests to worry about.

The sketch remains hanging off his neck the rest of the night. Viktor doesn't remove it when he goes to bed.

 

*

 

Weeks pass. After a serious discussion with Yakov, Viktor withdraws from the Russian Nationals. Without any serious competition, Yuri wins gold while Georgi gains silver. The media attention doesn't permit Viktor to see them in person. He settles for watching them through the livestream.

As Makkachin strews himself over Viktor’s lap, Viktor gazes pensively at the screen.

Yuri doesn't look satisfied at all. The teen has never been one to hide himself behind a mask like other competitors — Viktor included — but neither does he wear his heart on his sleeve. Right now, it’s obvious Yuri is thinking about having a rematch at Worlds. About proving himself. So much pressure on the shoulders of someone so young. Yuri still has room to grow, and so many years ahead of him to do so. There’s no doubt, however, that the young man is someone who will eventually carry Viktor’s legacy.

Legacy. That’s Viktor's theme this year. One last hurrah, so to speak, as a dedication to his career and fans. The year before it was yearning. These are the two things Viktor has dedicated his life to but at the same time neglected.

Life and love. At twenty-eight, he still doesn't know the purpose of them. He doesn't know how they can stretch out for years, beyond comprehension. The career of a figure skater ticks on a timer. The body will betray the skater eventually, and so no one in the Before thinks much about the After until it’s there. Viktor is much the same way.

At his age, a normal person would be married, perhaps even raising a child. Viktor has never met a person he’s wanted to hold on to, much less intertwine his life with. At least, no one he can have. His friends make him happy. Makkachin provides company. And yet, Viktor is aware that he is lacking.

As if sensing his owner’s distress, Makkachin stirs, butting his nose into Viktor’s stomach. Viktor allows a wistful smile to spread as he pets his dog.

The sketch of Yuuri sways back and forth at the movement. Viktor ignores it.

He doesn't want to think about Yuuri right now, when he's feeling so despondent.

 

*

 

Slowly, ever since his birthday, Victor becomes aware of strange things occurring around him. It's not much, not enough to drive him into paranoia, but enough to leave him feeling displaced. Sometimes he’ll hear someone humming an old Russian tune, but when he turns, the street will be empty. Or a smell will waft into his nostrils. However, no one will be cooking. There's chimes, and ghost sensations, and even flashes of an image.

These facts do not preclude his own symptoms. Sudden dizziness. Spots in his vision. Feeling like he’s jumped a thousand yards while standing still.

Viktor thinks he’s going mad, quite frankly.

It all culminates into one specific moment, when he’s walking Makkachin along the pier. Viktor brings along a bag of treats and necessities because he needs to meet up with a sponsor, and Georgi has agreed to watch over his precious pet for however long the meeting will take.

As Makkachin bounds along, Viktor senses the dizziness taking hold of him again. He pauses, tugging on Makkachin’s leash. The poodle stops with a whine. Viktor can’t say anything however, as another wave of nausea overtakes him. His bag falls to the floor. The contents spill all over the place. Viktor kneels down to pick them up, lanyard slipping from its place in under his coat.

Suddenly a shadow appears in his field of view. Someone wearing a pair of sneakers and a thick coat stops to stand beside him. Probably a foreigner; no Russian would go out without boots on this time in January.

“Your dog is cute,” the stranger says. Viktor notes that his voice has a pleasant quality to it, soft and deep. He’s too busy collecting his things to look up. “May I pet him?”

“Sure,” Viktor replies, absent minded. “He’s quite friendly.”

The shadow disappears, presumably because the stranger is walking towards Makkachin. There’s a sudden ringing sound in Viktor’s ears, like he’s been submerged under water. Viktor clutches at his ears until the moment passes as fast as it comes; his breathing is heavy. Having gathered all the items back into the bag, Viktor glances up to put a face to the voice, wondering why he’s said nothing about Viktor’s sudden distress. The stranger is gone.

“Makkachin?” Viktor turns to his dog, eyes wide. Makkachin tilts his head sideways, as if in question.

The pier is devoid of any other human life.

 

*

 

As an athlete, Viktor knows to take care of his body. Since he can’t identify the problem on his own he books an appointment with his physician. Yakov accepts Makkachin into his home for the day. In exchange Viktor agrees to let him know what the results of his examination.

The appointment goes well. Viktor has suffered from a couple of physical injuries before — and even a notable concussion, which he mentions —  so he’s familiar with the bland poker face doctors wear when they get ready to tell him bad news.

He explains the symptoms he’s had lately. Dizzy spells. Possible hallucinations. A sense of displacement. The physician nods along, takes a couple of tests. At some point he needs to check Viktor’s breathing and instructs him to remove his lanyard and coat. Viktor’s been carrying it around since the day Lilia gave it to him, so he tucks it in the pocket of his jeans instead of placing leaving it on the chair.

Viktor is left by himself to ponder the worst of it. A niggling voice in the back of his head warns him to prepare for disaster. A brain tumor or the like.

When the physician returns, his face appears a bit chiding, but not dismal. Fatigue and stress are the root of the problem, Viktor’s told. Perhaps even slight dehydration judging by his low levels of blood sugar. Nothing too serious, but definitely something to be concerned with for an athlete. He asks how many hours of sleep Viktor gets each night. In shame, Viktor admits that it can sometimes be only five hours.

At Yakov’s house, Viktor repeats what he’s been told. He fully expects Yakov to shriek until his face turns blue. The coach only sighs and invites Viktor inside for a drink — of water that is, he’s not allowed to get his hands on alcohol at the moment. Viktor must look like a mess; if Yakov is taking pity on him.

 

*

 

Viktor is pacing down the street when he first feels it again. This time is much more intense than before. A ripple of something jolts up his spine, as if he’s been gutted, and goose bumps rise on his skin. For some reason Viktor thinks that the sky seems murkier than before. The signs by the streetlight are different too — fresher. Everything else feels a bit duller, though. Like it’s been compressed.

A shoulder knocks against his, tearing Viktor from his thoughts. The force of the shove throws him off balance  for a moment. Out of the corner of his eyes, Viktor spies a black mop of hair running out of sight.

“Sorry,” the person mutters without stopping.

Affronted by the stranger’s rudeness, Viktor turns around. He blinks for a second and feels the jolt again. When Viktor opens his eyes, the stranger is gone. A frown tugs on the corner of Viktor’s mouth. He doesn’t recall zoning out. How can someone run that fast? Viktor suspects the fatigue is still at work. With a shrug, he straightens his shoulders and adjusts his lanyard.

There’s no time to dwell on it. It’s dark out and Viktor hasn’t fed Makkachin yet.

Shaking off his stupor, he initiates his trek back home once more.

 

*

 

A while later Viktor collapses on his couch. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights, and takes a moment to just relax. Makkachin soon joins him.

In search of comfort, Viktor wraps his arms around Makkachin. The dog licks at his nose, and Viktor shrinks away from the wet feeling, tucking his chin over the puppy’s head. “Would you like to go on a walk, boy?” he mumbles into Makkachin’s fur. “I think we both need a bit of fresh air.”

Makkachin barks at him in response, and Viktor smiles. “That’s a good boy,” he says.

He gets up to fetch Makkachin’s collar. The dog is already waiting at the door.

 

*

 

The streets still have people wandering around at this time of night, but it’s mostly strangers searching for the nearest bar. Viktor pays them no mind. No one recognizes him, which is fortunate, so he’s allowed to walk in peace. Makkachin paces beside him, more subdued than usual. The two of them make their way to the seaside. Winter is his favorite time of year to meander through the city. A sense of wonder permeates the air, and Viktor imagines he can breathe it into his lungs.

The water ripples gently in the dark, soothing him. Now that he feels better, Viktor considers turning back home now. He doesn’t want Makkachin to be exposed to the cold for too long. Seeing as the weather is so nice, he opts to continue on just a bit longer.

This is the moment when Viktor feels it again. The energy in the air fizzles, as if suddenly shocked by electricity. The somber sky lightens, close to that it would be soon after dawn. Despite the fact that it’s well into the night, Viktor can swear he sees a hint of sun rays peek from the horizon. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing at them. When he opens them again, something flashes in his vision. Viktor blinks again.

This time the image is clearer, as if fading into reality. A figure is frozen on the side of the street, shoulders slumped, back facing Viktor. Immediately Viktor notes the sneakers on his feet and the mop of black hair. This is the person from before, a repeat hallucination.

Before Viktor can call out something, anything, another image flashes into view. A car, veering to the side of the road, completely having lost control. The person in front of Viktor doesn’t seem to notice, paralyzed in place. The driver hasn’t pulled the breaks yet. Nothing else passes through Viktor’s mind then.

He bursts into a sprint. The stranger isn’t too far, and Viktor lunges at him in those last extra steps. Their angle isn’t convenient, but Viktor manages to turn the man slightly to the side. One of his hands goes to cradle the stranger’s head as the other wraps around his waist. With so little time to spare, Viktor yanks their bodies to the side, using the momentum to keep rolling. The car charges on, hitting the barrier of the pier just behind them. Smoke rises from the hood.

The man underneath Viktor groans, so he scrambles to fuss over him. To their luck, they didn’t strike anything as they rolled. He opens his mouth to comment it.

It’s at this moment that Viktor’s world gets turned on its axis. Finally, he’s able to put a name to the face that’s been haunting him for the past month.

“Are you real, then?” the Japanese man says in a subdued tone. Laughter bubbles from the pit of Viktor’s stomach. He can hardly believe his ears.

Yuuri Katsuki is breathtaking. Breathtaking because he’s _alive,_ pulse drumming under the pressure of Viktor’s thumb, chest rising and falling with his heartbeat. Yuuri’s glasses are askew after their tussle, and Viktor feels those eyes burning into him, searing straight through him, dousing him in fire. Not only that, but the man’s body temperature runs warm, opposite of Viktor’s, and he fits inside Viktor’s arms like he was made for them.

His heart breaks and mends itself a million times over in the span of a second. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO SO much for your kudos/comments/subscriptions. They powered me up enough that I managed to update within 4 days :) 
> 
> Also a huge thanks to [exile-wrath](http://www.exile-wrath.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this chapter for me and offering suggestions.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://www.belsefar.tumblr.com).


	3. iii

[3]

“From which stars have we fallen to meet each other here?”

\- Friedrich Nietzsche, _Letters to Lou Salomé_

 

*

 

All too quickly, the world shifts.

One second — Yuuri stands with his head bowed. His thoughts whir as he considers sleeping all night by the pier, knowing it's a stupid idea, but not wanting to return to the hotel. Atsuko may be there, she may not; he doesn't know which is worse. Another screaming match is far from what he wants.

The next — the force of a body rams into his side, and the world comes into focus. There's a car, Hyundai, sleek and red. The hood crumples like paper when it strikes the railing. Against a human body, the opposite would have happened.

_Ah_ , the faint thought comes to him, _I could have died_. His fingers curl under the fabric beneath them, an involuntary action.

When he glances up, the face of his savior is all too familiar. It's the image that has been haunting him for the last few days. It’s not everyday one sees a ghost. But, perhaps he’s not a ghost after all.

Yuuri studies the man with silver hair and unbelievably blue eyes, and says, "Are you real, then?"

"I believe I should be asking you that." The man stares back at Yuuri with a mix of shock and awe, as if he were gazing upon a miracle. Under the intensity, the tips of Yuuri's ears flush red. It's not that he's unaccustomed by hero worship. Plenty of people have called Yuuri their idol before, but this is different. He doesn't know how yet, but it's _different_.

"What's your name?"

"Viktor."

“I see,” Yuuri says. He goes quiet then, waiting. Conversational skills have never been his strongest point. Outside of competition and sport, he doesn’t keep up with topics people use for small talk. As the silence goes on, he can feel it grow more oppressive. The urge to look away rises in Yuuri, like the tide, but it will feel like a loss if he looks away first.

The Russian – Viktor, he’s Viktor now – shows no trace of discomfort. Instead a corner of his mouth curves upwards. His eyes gleam with something, amusement perhaps, but not quite. All of a sudden, Yuuri feels a little bit foolish. Like a lamb in the face of a wolf.

It dawns on him that the two of them are still pressed together. Well no, Yuuri’s been aware. It's difficult not to be. But suddenly, the places where their skin touch flare with hypersensitivity.

Viktor’s right hand has slipped from Yuuri’s back to his waist. The other hand remains cradling Yuuri’s head, fingers splayed over the curve of his neck. The pad of Viktor’s thumb has wandered under Yuuri’s collar, placed right over the notch of his vertebrae. Meanwhile Yuuri himself is reciprocating the contact. His hands still grip onto Viktor’s collar, wrinkling the fabric of his Armani coat. Their noses are almost touching, and Viktor’s breath ghosts over Yuuri’s face with every exhale. If they were any closer, they would be kissing.

The final thought stops Yuuri from going any further. No good, these thoughts are no good. The traitorous flush of his ears spreads further down, dusting his cheeks pink with something other than cold.

Still, Yuuri hates to lose, so he presses his lips together and keeps his mouth shut — gaze unwavering.

Viktor's expression melts then. He ducks his head closer, and Yuuri jolts, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t be thinking of kissing Yuuri, can he? A _stranger_. That would be…

Soft tendrils of hair brush against Yuuri’s cheek. There’s nothing else. When Viktor's nose finally presses into his shoulder, Yuuri opens his eyes again. Viktor is shaking? No.

He’s laughing. He says something — a muffled sentence — but his mouth is too close to Yuuri’s shoulder for the words to be decipherable. Panic flutters in Yuuri’s stomach.

“Um, what?”

Viktor lifts his head back up, eyes aglow. His smile is wider now, heart-shaped. “Cute.”

And Yuuri doesn't need to know how red his face goes in embarrassment. He can feel it burning. They’ve only known each other for a minute. Clearly this person is a casanova.

“Ah.” Yuuri unfurls his fingers from Viktor’s coat, moving his palms to lie flat on Viktor’s chest. Using a small amount of his strength, Yuuri nudges Viktor back. “Can you just— We have to… the driver,” Yuuri blurts out. Thinking about it now, he can’t believe he forgot something so important.

Viktor shifts his weight until he’s on his knees and they’re a respectable distance apart. As soon as he’s free, Yuuri sprints to the driver’s side of the car. The door has swung open on impact. No one’s visible, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have been wrenched to the side. It’s when he finally gets a closer look that Yuuri realizes something is wrong.

There’s no one inside.

Yuuri freezes in place. The shadow of Viktor’s figure looms next to his own, but Yuuri doesn’t look away. Is it going to be another occurrence like the day at the pier? In the blink of an eye, the shadow disappears, the car too. And then Yuuri will be left thinking he’s going crazy again. Atsuko was right; it’s all in his head.

That’s not what happens. Instead a hand comes to wrap around his wrists, anchoring him. Yuuri glances down. Absently, he notes that Viktor’s fingers are longer than his. And then his gaze travels down to Viktor’s forearm, from which a trickle of blood slides down. Viktor is bleeding.

“Yuuri?” Viktor says. He snaps to attention then. Yuuri has not given Viktor his name yet, but he already knows it. One possibility for having this knowledge can be that Viktor watches figure skating, but, he’s not an ordinary man. In the back of his head, Yuuri tucks the thought in with the rest of the things he knows about Viktor. Another piece to the puzzle clicks.

Rather than point out Viktor’s mistake, however, Yuuri says, “The car is empty.”

“I saw.”

“And you’re bleeding.” His words cause Viktor to glance down, one brow hitching in surprise.

“Oh…” he murmurs. “I didn’t realize. It’s nothing.” And it seems to be nothing, as he easily turns his own attention back to Yuuri. “Are you alright?”

The questions takes Yuuri by surprise. “Yes,” he answers after a pause.

 

*

 

Yuuri calls 112 soon after. Contacting the authorities seems to be the only answer, as they can’t leave a wreck in the middle of the road.

When the police arrive, they don’t take too long in interviewing both Viktor and Yuuri. Viktor does most of the talking, as he’s the native Russian between them. With his knowledge of English, Yuuri joins in as well. There’s one comment of note that Yuuri guards in his heart. The officer writing down their statements forgets the date and asks his partner. Before the man can answer, Viktor replies with January 13th. When Yuuri corrects him, Viktor laughs it off as being confused from the accident. His smile, however, becomes tense. Yuuri notes that as well. Viktor is a person who smiles to hide what he’s feeling.

After a while, the officers drop the pretense of listening to Yuuri and turn their full attention towards Viktor. He can’t blame them. Even when Yuuri has no idea what he’s saying, the man is quite charming. The way he talks and moves — every gesture is embedded with a natural grace and confidence. In comparison, Yuuri is a lumbering dolt. Yuuri wonders if Viktor skates. It would be something like a dream, watching Viktor dance on the ice, even if he’s an amateur. His physical condition is just right for a figure skater.

He would feel awkward, now that he can only listen to them talk in an indecipherable language, but Viktor clutching his sleeve anchors him in place. It’s calming. And Yuuri’s noticed this too. Viktor is strangely touchy, and, well. Clingy would be the right word for it. He has to be in direct contact with Yuuri at all time, as if he thinks Yuuri will vanish any second. Seeing as how Viktor is the one disappearing into thin air, Yuuri thinks it’s his responsibility to worry. Not Viktor’s.

It doesn’t take long for Yuuri to lose focus. The cold reaches intolerable levels. The Russian men don’t seem to notice, but Yuuri does.

Yuuri’s unaccustomed to the Russian winter, and the night only grows more frigid, taking any warmth Yuuri can gather. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing the wrong shoes for the weather. Soon after he and Atsuko had touched down, Yuuri realized he’d only packed sneakers. By the time the Grand Prix was over he figured it would be a waste to purchase boots. They weren’t planning on staying long. As the chill creeps in through the sole of his shoes, Yuuri deeply regrets that decision. He hugs himself, shivering.

Viktor notices his discomfort. He communicates softly to the officers. They look at each other and then back to Yuuri in Viktor. One of them makes a gesture, pointing between them, and asks something. A dusting of pink rises on Viktor’s cheeks, and he murmurs a reply. Yuuri gets tugged closer to Viktor as the man proceeds to sling his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder. The officer laughs.

“What did you say?” Yuuri says under his breath.

Viktor shrugs. “Nothing. They asked if we were close,” there’s a wry note in his voice when he says it, but also a hint of smugness. Yuuri doesn’t prompt further.

Yuuri finds himself forced into one of the officer’s vehicle. He panics, wriggling in Viktor’s hold. Viktor remains steadfast. He leans down to whisper in Yuuri’s ear.

“Relax. They’re taking you home. Can you give me the address?”

After taking a moment to relax, Yuuri shoots off the address for the Stony Island, a hotel about twenty-five minutes from the pier. Viktor nods. He communicates to the officer again. The car ride commences.

 

*

 

A minute or two passes in silence, as Yuuri thinks of something to say. “So, uh, do you come here often?” he asks. And then he realizes what he said. Embarrassed, he sinks his head into Viktor’s shoulder. “That’s not a pick up line.”

Viktor hums. “I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

“That’s because you’re a casanova,” Yuuri accuses. “I can tell.” He senses it when Viktor shifts slightly, angling their bodies a bit farther apart. Before Yuuri can stop him, Viktor’s lifts Yuuri’s chin so that their eyes are meeting once more. It’s unfair, really, that Viktor’s eyes are so blue, like an ocean. A real person can’t have eyes like those. It’s cheating. Whatever cells control Yuuri’s blood flow must be malfunctioning, because he can’t stop blushing.

“No.” Yuuri blinks, startled. Viktor bites his lip, as if holding back laughter. “I don’t come here often. I live here. In St. Petersburg.”

Yuuri presses on. “What’s your real name then? Where do you work?”

“I told you, my name is Viktor.”

“Full name.”

“Hm. Not telling,” Viktor sing-songs, and he seems to be enjoying riling Yuuri up.

Yuuri considers his next move. Without giving Viktor time to react, Yuuri grabs Viktor’s wrist, pinning it to the seat. Then Yuuri rearranges himself so that he’s now facing Viktor. One of his hands moves to clutch Viktor’s shoulders for balance while the other remains on his wrists. Dimly, Yuuri is aware that they’re too close again. “How do you know me, then? How do you know my name?”

“You’re Yuuri Katsuki, you’re beautiful. Your body moves like music even on a page.” All the joking is mirth is gone from Viktor’s eyes, replaced by something molten and predatory. “And Yuuri.”

“Y- yes,” Yuuri stutters. They really _are_ too close.

“If you don’t get off me, I’ll really kiss you.”

Yuuri scrambles off Viktor’s lap, gluing himself to the window. He doesn’t want to look at the expression on either the officer’s or Viktor’s face.

 

*

 

The return to the hotel is uneventful until Yuuri realizes Viktor isn’t coming inside. They walk up to the door before he stops and bows his head. His face takes on a wistful expression, shoulders slumped, but he waves goodbye at Yuuri and turns towards the street. Yuuri can’t help himself.

“You haven’t gone yet,” he blurts out. Viktor whirls around. Their eyes meet, and Viktor gazes at him searchingly. “That is, to say, you haven’t flashed away like you usually do.” And then, before he loses his courage, he asks, “Do you even know how to go home? What are you exactly? You saved my life, so I suppose I don’t have the right to press you for an answer. But I want you to tell me.”

Viktor breaks their eye contact, a first. His hand goes up to grip at the blue string around his neck, a lanyard, that he’s kept tucked beneath his shirt. However, he doesn’t say anything, hesitation written on his face.

“Please.”

Viktor takes a long breath as he steels himself. “I don’t know how to get home. And the rest, I—”

Viktor doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The blood drains from his face, and he clutches at his head, crumpling into himself. Yuuri barely has time to move a step. A gust of wind blows harshly, snow biting at his skin. Yuuri flinches back on instinct. When he opens his eyes, his worst fears have come true.

Viktor’s gone. Again.

Yuuri remains staring at the place where Viktor stood longer than he should. It isn’t until the receptionist stationed at the front desk opens the door that he walks inside.

 

*

 

Atsuko doesn't run out when Yuuri arrives to their floor. Their rooms are located next to each other, so he assumes she’s not home. She would hear him otherwise.

That’s why Yuuri’s surprised to see her sitting on the bed, staring blankly into nothing. Her hair is in disarray, more frizzled on one side than the other, rather than tied back. There’s no makeup on her face, making her bruised eyes and her pallor stand out in a way Yuuri hasn’t seen since the time she stayed up three nights while he was with fever. Where her outfit is normally pressed and smudge free, even in private, she now wears a blue hoodie and an ankle-length skirt.

Atsuko only lifts her head when Yuuri slams the door shut. There’s something clutched in her hand.

“You’re back,” she announces.

He nods. “I’m back.”

They remain in uncomfortable silence. Yuuri sighs. He goes toward the bed, plopping down next to her and leaning back, spreading his arms as if to make a snow angel. The scene feels familiar but at the same time all wrong. It’s been a reoccurring theme with Atsuko lately.

Finally, Atsuko speaks. She won’t look him in the eyes while doing so. “I’m not trying to get you injured. All I want is for you to get better. As someone who’s been with you so long, I know your limits.” Atsuko glances at him. Just as quick, she glances away. Perhaps she’s frightened of what she sees written on his face. A cold distant feeling is welling up in his chest, like Yuuri’s broken the barrier of how much fury he can contain and that’s all there’s left after the anger is emptied out. _Breathe_ , he reminds himself. Breathe. It’s not just about Atsuko; he’s not only angry at her. His paranoia is getting the better of him lately. To the point it’s unbearable.

_Breathe._

Silence.

The minutes tick on as Yuuri mulls over sticking his head under the sheets and refusing to talk. It’s childish, but he’s so tired of this conversation. They’ve discussed so many iterations of this topic before, and every time it’s had the same outcome. “I’ve told you I’m tired. I’m tired _all the time._ Some days I want to stay and bed and sleep, and the times when my thoughts don’t eat me up alive are getting too few and far between. I know my limits too. I want to pause for a little while. Why can’t you listen to me?”

“Stopping means the end of your career,” Atsuko says, but it’s so quiet he can barely hear her. “You can never come back.”

Yuuri props himself up on his elbows. Then, just as quick as the energy takes hold of him, it leaves, and he lays back down. “Did you come here so we could have the same fight again?”

Suddenly a bar of chocolate gets shoved in his face. Yuuri’s eyes widen with surprise. “Take it,” Atsuko orders, bringing it closer. Yuuri turns his head to the side, facing away from her. It’s an apology.

“You said I can’t eat these during the competitive season,” Yuuri tells her to be contrary.

“I said take it.”

“I prefer an apology.”

“Well this is as good as it gets, so take it.” They reach a stalemate, glaring at each other, until Yuuri gives in and grabs the chocolate bar. All his appetite is gone now, so he peels the wrapper and only nibbles on the edges. Atsuko seems to realize that’s the best he’s going to give. She refrains from chiding him. Somehow, despite his lack of cooperation, Yuuri finds himself shoved under the covers of the bed. Meanwhile, Atsuko goes to turn off the lights, leaving Yuuri in the dark.

She doesn’t stay long after that. He can hear the door swing open, and thinks maybe she’ll say goodnight. Instead she says, “Yuuri, that thing you mentioned. About the ice.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “I remember.”

“I don’t believe in the supernatural, but… it may... well... it may be that you were sabotaged. I asked someone I trust to look into it.”

“You think Kozlov cheated?” Yuuri prompts. He can’t really see it. Evgeni Kozlov is prideful and flashy, with just enough substance in his heart to shine. Being a good judge of character is one of Yuuri’s strong suits. When he thinks of Kozlov as a person, Yuuri can’t help but see someone who is honest.

“No, not necessarily. I’m just saying: it would look bad for a reigning champion to lose in his home country. I’ll let you know what I hear. Stop thinking about it and concentrate on the Japanese Nationals. It does you no good to be paranoid. Wake up early tomorrow, we’re leaving St. Petersburg. I took the liberty of packing your bags.”

The door slams shut before Yuuri can reply.

 

*

 

As Yuuri lies in the dark, he maps out the facts he knows about Viktor.

One, he knows Yuuri by name.

Two, he messed up a date. By an entire month. Perhaps it was a genuine misstep. If the officer has asked for the year, Yuuri wonders how he would have answered.

Three, he’s not an hallucination. Other people can see him.

Four, wherever he goes, Viktor can’t control it. It may cause him pain.

Yuuri reaches the end of his list, frustrated.

It’s not enough. Not to reach a verifiable conclusion. Conjectures are the only things Yuuri can make, strings upon strings of theories that mesh and tangle together until Yuuri won’t be able to see what’s in front of him, what the true answer is. Who is Viktor? Why is he here? Why does Yuuri feel…

Yuuri stops before he gets ahead of himself. Right now all he needs to know is Viktor’s identity.

The answer that comes to Yuuri is nigh impossible, and yet Yuuri’s mind has decided to stick to it and refuse to dislodge.

A time traveler. Viktor is a time traveler.

 

*

 

Hours pass and Yuuri can’t sleep.

Giving up, he decides to check his phone. Before the Grand Prix, Yuuri had put his phone on silent and instructed everyone to not call him. It didn’t stop many people, it seems, as his unread message count has reached 181. It’s not that the people back home don’t support him. .

Rather, it’s that they’re too much so.

The children he grew up with from the orphanage, his classmates from the schools he graduated from, former rink mates and competitors... all of them are telling Yuuri they believe in him. They seem to feel a kinship to Yuuri that he himself doesn’t reciprocate. Yuuri doesn’t know why, exactly, they feel this way considering  he’s never been done a thing to deserve it. Outside of his politeness and artificial calm, Yuuri hasn’t been the quite friendly enough. Therefore, he lacks trust in the responses. Instead, the unconditional support makes him hyper aware that people are watching, more a source of stress than calm.

Alone, without eyes upon him, he can perform with the best of them. But figure skating is a spectator’s sport. A skater’s performance only shines when the rhythm of the music beats in time with the applause of the crowd. It’s meant to be euphoric, and he’s witnessed hundreds of skaters become addicted to the sound. For Yuuri, the roar of the crowd becomes a boom. Where others see a hand extended in salutation, Yuuri sees claws ready to pierce into his skin and reveal that he is lacking.

He looks at the way he skates and thinks, _not good enough yet._ A part of it is from years of being told by Atsuko that there are heights he hasn’t reached, but a bigger part is that his skating isn’t up to par with holding the weight of a nation’s expectations. Yuuri can be a contradiction like that- one second there’s no one who can match him, and the second he’s a dime-a-dozen skater about to reach the end of the rope. He flummoxes between the two extremes. Emotionally speaking, it’s exhausting.

After losing, Yuuri hasn’t been able to bear the brunt of disappointment they must feel. Nonetheless, he thinks he can skim over it and get the worst out of the way. What Yuuri finds is far from what he expects.

 

**Misaki Ayuzawa** 3:13 PM  
          Congrats on silver. Someone who beat me obviously deserves it…

**Ms. Agarashi** 2:41 PM  
           Cheer up Yuuri. We had the kids watch your program together. I’m glad they have someone like you to look up to.

**Tora Usui** 12: 31 PM  
           Super late but you did amazing! I thought even a man like me could get pregnant from your charm! ハハハ…

 

Even though those are the most recent, there are still messages below, and Yuuri continues scrolling down.

 

**Katseku High (36 people)** 2016/12/10  
          Mira Sagisu: Yuuri still so cool!! This is why us girls had to sign a no one dates yuuri truce T^T  ahh the regret…

**Abe Noriyuki** 2016/12/10  
          As a countryman, I am proud. As a rival, this is something I cannot allow. I will defeat you Katsuki. 

          **Izumi** 2016/12/10  
          There’s someone I want you to meet.

 

The first, or rather final, text Yuuri finds is one from Izumi Sawada. He brings the phone closer, doubting his own vision. Izumi has refused to speak to him for over six months now. The decision was mutual, but Yuuri wishes he had a smidgen less pride. That way he could say sorry, say he doesn’t even remember what about their discussion was so important. It doesn’t matter now. Yuuri presses down on Izumi’s name.

 

**Izumi  
** Forgive me I was wrong  
_2016/12/10_

**Izumi  
** When you come home  
please consider seeing me  
_2016/12/10_

**Izumi  
** There’s someone I want you to meet  
_2016/12/10_

          **Yuuri  
**           OK  
          _1:03 AM_

Before he loses his nerve, Yuuri types:

          I’m sorry too.  
         _1:08 AM_

 

*

 

The next morning Yuuri feels like hell frozen over. A migraine pounds on his head even though he hasn’t touched an ounce of alcohol in months. Atsuko notices on sight. She offers Yuuri an aspirin, a bottle of water, and proceeds to hustle him out of the room as soon as he’s downed it all. Yuuri’s ordered to wait outside as she checks them out, and Yuuri does as he’s told. They have a 12 hour flight to get ready for, and Atsuko always gets testy around this time. She abhors being trapped in cramped spaces.

Meanwhile Yuuri stares at the place where Viktor stood the night before. He half expects the man to be there again. Being around him is, well, _nice_ is a word for it. Warm. Yuuri can’t place the exact emotion. When he thinks that leaving St. Petersburg will mean Viktor won’t return, there’s a sudden tug at his chest. A pin-prick.

It’s worrying. Yuuri touches his hand to his heart. It can’t be he’s having heart problems so young. Perhaps the cold is getting to him.

Atsuko rushes out soon after, breaking Yuuri away from his thoughts. They hail a taxi to the nearest airport. This time they manage to find a direct flight to Tokyo rather than having to hop off one plane in order to board another.

Much to Yuuri’s relief, Atsuko’s stinginess does not bar them from getting first class tickets. Neither of them are too comfortable with decadence and luxury. Atsuko, Yuuri’s aware, had some trouble between the point in which she retired and the point she adopted Yuuri; she had to make sure every penny was accounted for. It’s not something she cares to mention often. Yuuri’s situation is far from complicated. Being in the orphanage for so long caused him to become somewhat wary of having too much. Too much happiness, too much food, too many clothes, too many friends. Someone was always envious enough to steal it.

The two of them travel in silence. It’s comfortable sort, however, which is relieving. Yuuri longs for a couple hours of sleep. He’s never been adjusted enough to nap in the presence of others. Instead he watches as the gray clouds zoom past the window, nodding off fitfully.

 

*

 

Sometime later they arrive at the hotel, and Yuuri makes no qualms of sleeping like the dead. Atsuko lets him, saying he has to make arrangements with the organizers regarding his short program and his free skate.

When Yuuri wakes up later in the afternoon, he sends the message to Izumi letting him know he’s back in the country. Izumi will be competing too, so he’s probably in Sapporo already. Yuuri had to fly out for his qualification rounds, but Izumi only had to travel to Tokyo. At this point, they had already stopped talking, and Yuuri had no idea what to say when Izumi missed the cut off for the Grand Prix. Yuuri’s interpersonal skills are lacking, but he’s aware that having a finalist try and cheer you on after you lose is far from ideal.

Moments later Yuuri gets a reply with an address. Yuuri follows his GPS, eventually arriving at a small stand in the Susukino district. The place is teeming with people gobbling down miso soup, bowls packed one over the other. Yuuri searches for Izumi.

Since Izumi is far taller than Yuuri, and he tends to wear red almost exclusively, he stands out in the crowd like a beacon at sea. Yuuri sprints towards him but his footsteps slow when he sees a girl attached to his arm. Pretty, a bit on the short side, with fine black hair tucked into a ponytail. Glasses rest upon the bridge of her nose, and they give her a serious air. Yuuri resumes his walk at half the pace.

“Hello,” Yuuri says, when he reaches them. The girl and Izumi turn to him simultaneously.

“Yuuri!” Izumi calls. He wraps his arms around Yuuri, and Yuuri allows it for a couple of seconds before stepping away. The girl smiles kindly when their eyes meet and they exchange bows. “This is Akira, and, well…” Izumi exchanges a look with the girl. Yuuri can sense they’re having a conversation with their eyes. Coming to a decision, Izumi turns to Yuuri again. “I’m going to marry her.”

Yuuri keeps struggles to keep his face thoroughly blank. “Ah. I see. When?”

Somehow his reaction lessens the tension between Izumi and the girl, Akira, and she offers him a smile. “Once I graduate. I won’t be long. A couple of months.”

“Hm. And what about you, Izumi? Are you going to retire and start a family?”

A shadow falls over Izumi’s face. He looks at Yuuri, and Yuuri almost feels as if he’s being seen _through_. “Perhaps. I may come back to coach, find the next person to carry on the legacy. My cousin owns a rink. He doesn’t have anyone helping him, so I may go there. Or maybe I’ll put that degree I got to good use. I’ll always love the ice, Yuuri, but have you ever thought that all we do, the years we pour into it, are never rewarded? A couple years at the peak, and then we decline. Has the ice ever been soft when we fall? We’re doomed to an unrequited love, us skaters.” Then, if possible, Izumi gaze grows more intense. “You understand, don’t you Yuuri?”

Yuuri breaks off his gaze first. He focuses on his hands as if they hold a puzzle. “Perhaps,” he acquiesces.

Mercifully, Izumi has never been the type of person to push.

 

*

 

On his way home, Yuuri feels lost, untethered. He leaves Izumi and Akira to stare after him, but he wants to be alone for a moment.

For some reason, Viktor surfaces into Yuuri’s thoughts. It doesn’t make sense. The man hasn’t appeared within twenty-four hours. He must be safe, wherever he is. In fact, his visits only occurred within a forty-eight hour period. Summing it all up, Viktor hasn’t been a part of Yuuri’s life for more than a couple of days.

When Yuuri was quite young, a group of boys locked him in a closet. His only view of the outside had been a crack in the bottom corner, from which he could see people’s feet as they walked past. He waited for hours, breathing in dust, curled up with one eye peering outside. After what seemed like eternity, one of the caretakers passed by. He banged on the doors until his fists hurt. She noticed him and opened it. Yuuri had been almost blinded by the sudden intensity of light, but equally relieved. So relieved he wept.

Meeting Viktor, it reminds Yuuri of that feeling. He supposes he can figure out its name later.

Right now, Yuuri can attempt to find a way to make him appear again. If he has anything to do with it, that is. It may all be Viktor’s ability. What was Yuuri thinking about before, when Viktor first appeared? The first time with the dog, he’d been walking to the pier because Atsuko had exhausted him with training, and Yuuri wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of Japan. The second, where they brushed past each other, Yuuri had realized he’d forgotten something in his hotel room. The third, it was after a fight with Atsuko.

Exhaustion. Panic. Anger. All negative emotions, but are they enough to pull Viktor into Yuuri’s time? No, or else Viktor would have appeared after the Grand Prix Final. Maybe, then, it’s the sense of needing someone. Someone to be there for him.

The thought is a ludicrous one, but Yuuri latches onto it anyway.

Yuuri concentrates on the empty pit inside him, a gaping maw. Whenever he looks around him and sees that everyone else is so far ahead, he has to catch up with them, work harder, that feeling.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around him and Yuuri jolts. He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes. But, the spacial difference is off. This person’s arms are too lanky.

“Are you alright?” Izumi asks.

Yuuri fights back the swell of disappointment. “Yes,” he lies, “I just got lost in thought. Aren’t you going with your fiance?”

“Akira’s waiting for me right now. I just wanted say sorry for how I spoke earlier. Those were my true feelings, but I’m sure it’s different for you.”

“It’s alright,” Yuuri says. “I do understand them. Can you get off me now? I’m still claustrophobic.”

Izumi draws away in a snap. Yuuri turns and smiles at him for signaling that he’s going to take off now. He doesn’t stop again. There’s no point to it anyway. Yuuri has to concentrate on winning, on finally beating Evgeni Kozlov on the world stage.

 

*

 

**kangyeon** posted 

**An announcement to all international fans**

Hello, everyone. Since I know many of you don’t speak Japanese, I would like to update you on this. It’s from the official Shounen site. Translation as always is by futurekatzki.

_“As many of you know, publication of the manga_ Yuuri!! Fight on _has been stalled for the past three weeks. There have many speculations as to what has caused this delay, and this is a message to update fans. For the duration of its run_ Yuuri!! Fight On _will be published on the Shounen website completely uncensored. The delayed three chapters will be published all at once during the series’ traditional publish date. Do not lose faith. We at Shounen have supported Yuuri Katsuki and Osamu Nishigori from the beginning. Rather, this is the request of Nishigori himself. He wishes to explore uncharted territory, and we continue to cheer from him in the sidelines.”_

To sum it up: 1) Yuuri is coming back! We finally get to see what happened after Atsuko called him bless. 2) Nishigori-sensei is planning something so outrageous he doesn’t want anyone to censor it 3) WE GET THREE UPDATES ALL AT ONCE!!

Remember to support Nishigori-sensei by purchasing a subscription in Jump’s English sister site.

Source: kangyeon #bless #I AM SO PUMPED FOR THIS #BELIEVE IN NISHIGORI #yfo #yuuri fight on #official #shounen jump

** 653 notes **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOOSH.
> 
> That's the sound of me being blown away by the response to this fic. So glad I got to update before classes start.
> 
> A huge thanks to my beta [exile-wrath](http://www.exile-wrath.tumblr.com) had wonderful suggestions on how to improve this chapter. He's awesome.
> 
> Also, Yuuri why are you such an unreliable narrator you darling child.
> 
> Here's a link to[ my tumblr.](http://www.belsefar.tumblr.com)


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